Mind the Gap - Interlude: Finding The Way Home
by PeaJay
Summary: John Watson has bad days. It's never really that far from the surface, but he keeps it well hid. That is until a case with Sherlock brings it all back. Can he overcome his demons? Can he find his way home? With Sherlock's help, he just might.


These little "Interludes" are made to take place within the context of my Mind the Gap series, but can be read as stand alone works as well. For those that are following along in the Mind the Gap Series, this takes place after Collateral Damage but before Return to Baskerville. Please let me know if you'd like to see more Interludes. Many thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it. I do love feedback so please let me know what you think. If you find any glaring errors, please let me know that too. xxpj

AU - M/M Slash but nothing graphic in this one. I own nothing. If I did, he would have the initials BC and be in my bed every night. ;)

Sherlock Holmes, John Watson et al. are creations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle(with the modern adaptation being credited to the brilliant minds of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss). I've just had a fiddle with them.

**Mind the Gap- Interlude: Finding the Way Home**

The case was nothing special really, not even a four by Sherlock's standards and he'd told Inspector Gregson as much when they captured the killer. He'd also, in true Sherlock fashion, belittled the criminal and said a child could have committed a better crime. In point of fact, Sherlock taunted the culprit so badly- said perpetrator became enraged and pulled a gun that was hidden in his boot. He managed to get off two rounds before he was wrestled to the ground by Gregson's men, but not before John had been shot pushing Sherlock out of the line of fire. The wound was a clean through and through, and John only spent a few hours in A & E getting patched back up. No, that wasn't the trouble. The trouble started soon after.

Sherlock became aware of the change in John's behaviour the next day. While he had seemed fine at the hospital and on their journey home, John became increasingly quiet and retreated to his room immediately upon their arrival to the flat. The next day Sherlock was performing an experiment in the kitchen when a combination of chemicals accidently mixed and caused a minor explosion in their tea kettle. John was in the sitting room, reading the paper when it went off and immediately dropped to the floor and covered his head. A few moments passed and John collected himself off the floor. He didn't yell at Sherlock as he normally did when Sherlock made a mess of the flat. Come to think on it, John hadn't said anything at all- he'd just retreated to his room again for the remainder of the day, not even coming down to eat. For the rest of the week, John was more than a little jumpy and flinched at every loud noise or sudden movement. Sherlock tried on several occasions to talk to John about it, but John would just say, 'It's nothing' and change the subject.

Finally, one night after a particularly bad nightmare, Sherlock heard light sobs coming from John's room. Now, despite what most people thought, Sherlock Holmes was not a machine. He did have feelings, especially for John. They'd been through quite a lot together in the short time they'd known each other and their new found 'relationship' had been on track to becoming a full blown romance. He just couldn't sit by while John was in such distress so Sherlock padded his way up the stairs to John's room and he rapped lightly on the door.

"John, can I come in?" said Sherlock softly.

"It's nothing Sherlock," came John's reply. "Go back to bed, or whatever you were doing."

"Please John. I want to help if I can."

"Fine," said John resigned. "Door's open."

Sherlock turned the knob and as he opened the door the light from the hall filtered into the darkened room. John was sat on the edge of the bed, his hair was damp with sweat. He was looking at the floor, his head in his hands.

"Sorry if I woke you." John looked up briefly at Sherlock. The look on his face held a mixture of sorrow and pain. He wouldn't hold Sherlock's gaze and his head returned to his hands, and his eyes to the floor.

"You didn't," replied Sherlock as he moved into the room. "Mind if I sit?" Sherlock didn't wait for a reply and took a seat next to John on the bed.

The pair sat in companionable silence for a time when finally Sherlock said, "Afghanistan again?" He knew full well John had recurring nightmares of his time in the desert. Sometimes the dreams were of John being shot, others Sherlock didn't know. John refused to speak of those.

John nodded. "All the places I've been, the things I've seen…the faces of people I'll never see again. It all gets to be too much. My therapist used to say I'll be fine again one day and sometimes I think that's true, but then something happens and it all comes back. I wonder what's the point, you know? I can't seem to find my way home. It's like I'm stuck in this godforsaken purgatory.

"You'll get through my dear fellow." Sherlock tentatively put his hand on John's thigh. "You've only been out of service for little more than a year. It's going to take some time."

"Heh," smirked John. "That's what my therapist used to say."

Sherlock continued on. "I'm not saying you'll ever forget, but it's bound to get better. We've got each other now, you don't have to face it alone." Sherlock smiled at him, hoping John would look up and see the truth in his words.

"What if it doesn't Sherlock?" John finally looked up at him. "I'm no good on cases like this. I could get you killed."

Sherlock's brow wrinkled in confusion. "That's what concerns you? I put you in danger on a regular basis John. Just look at your shoulder. That's my doing as surely as if I'd pulled the trigger myself. I am sorry, you know? I tend to get carried away sometimes. I do try and control myself, but as you are well aware I can't just turn it on and off."

"Still, if I'd frozen up…you'd be dead now. I can't even think about how my life would be without you." John moved his hand to cover Sherlock's, which was still resting on John's thigh.

Sherlock slowly leaned over and placed a tender kiss on John's temple. "We'll figure it out John," he said as he rested his head against John's.

John seemed to relax a little against Sherlock's warm figure. "I hope you're right," he said with a sigh.

Sherlock grinned at him and said, "You should know by now my dear man, I am always right."


End file.
